Padfoot's Point of View
by Moondoggy
Summary: A sort of second part to If You Sleep but you don't need to read that first. Harry's dying and now Sirius has to say goodbye. (I suck at summaries don't I?) Oh well, please r/r.


Author's Note: I'm ba-a-ck! Ok this probably isn't the best fic in the world (more like definitely isn't) but I've had writers block for forever and this idea just begged to be written down.  It's sort of a sequel to If You Sleep but you don't really need to read it first.  I will do Ron's PoV one of these days.  It's some missing scenes and Sirius's view on things.  I know I make him suffer and lose everything in practically every story I've written but I really do like the guy.  He's one of the best characters! I just have a funny way of showing it.  Anyways, for those of you who might read bits of this the wrong way there is NO slash!  I don't have anything against homosexuals but I think R/S is just gross (besides, Sirius is mine! Just joking.J)  They are just good friends.  They're practically brothers so they're allowed to be close without sleeping with each other.  Sorry, I'll finish my little rant now and shut up.  

Disclaimer:  Do I really have to write this? If you think they're mine then I'd love to know what you're smoking!

Padfoot's Point of View 

"Surely You must be mistaken.  This can't be right,"

Dumbledore looks the doctor right in the eye, but his gaze has lost its intensity.  His eyes are dull.  There's a waver in his voice, so slight that most would miss it.  But I don't.  He sounds almost like he's pleading with the doctor, even when he knows there's nothing left to do.  I look up at him, the man who has stood by me since I was a child, even before the marauders, and instead see a frail, grieving old man.  

"There's got to be something you can do." Remus's voice is faint and shaky.  His grip on my arm seems to be the only thing keeping him on his feet, a reminder that I have to stay strong.  Not just for Harry, or myself, but for Remus too. I don't look at him, or anyone else.  I stare down at Harry's face, battered and mottled with bruises and scratches.  Rage flares up inside me. Here is my godson, the only family I have, clinging to life by a thread because his only living relatives were too closed-minded and afraid to accept him.  The doctor's grave voice interrupts my thoughts, bringing me back from visions of revenge.  I'm grateful, I don't want to dwell too long on what I'd like to do to Dursley if I got my hands on him right now.

"…Though his bones will set in time, and the bruises are healing, he's suffered massive internal bleeding and severe head-trauma.  Harry will die.  There is no magic that can help him now.  I'm sorry."

"No," The word is out of my mouth before I even know what I'm saying.  This can't be happening.  I can't lose Harry!  It's not true. It can't be… "Please, He's all I have." Remus's grip on my arm tightens even more, until I feel his nails digging into my flesh, but I can't be strong any more.  I turn to look into his face and see the pain in his eyes.  "He can't die…" Remus releases the death grip on my arm and awkwardly rests a hand on my shoulder.  But a blessed numbness has taken over my senses and I hardly feel it.  Minerva doesn't say anything.  She just stares into space, crying silent tears.  Dumbledore sighs deeply and thanks the doctor.  He looks forlornly at Harry and walks out with Dumbledore.  I suppose he has reason to grieve.  He went to school with us and knows the Potter's real story, which is why I can be here in human form, and he was Lily's doctor when Harry was born.  Mcgonagall leaves soon after.

Remus and I stand there in silence.  I think we're both trying to be strong for each other.  Finally the silence becomes too much.  I shake off Moony's arm and stumble over to Harry's side.  With trembling hands, I reach out and lightly touch his cheek.  He looks so much like James.  I remember James lying in the hospital wing after the Slytherin team was done with him after a match in our seventh year.  He was almost as messed up as Harry.  I lean down and awkwardly kiss my godson's forehead; I guess I was never very good at this paternal stuff.  He's so cold, cold as death.  I can't hold it back any longer.  Hot tears course down my face and a hoarse cry escapes my lips.  I brush a lock of coal-black hair away from his face before withdrawing my hand and falling to my knees.  Remus is at my side in an instant.  He kneels beside me and puts an arm around my shoulders.  He's crying too, silent tears falling from his tired eyes.  I welcome the comfort of my friend's embrace and cry into his shoulder.  I can feel the tremors racking his thin frame as he cries with me.  Remus would have made a great father.  He always thought of his friends before himself, even if he was suffering too.  

"It's my fault…it's all my fault" Remus shakes his head.  He's rocking back and forth gently, like a father comforting a crying child. 

"It's not." He murmurs.  "Nobody blames you, not Harry, not me, not Dumbledore, not anybody." His voice is hoarse, shaking with suppressed grief.

"It is!" I know I sound like someone one-third my age but I don't care. "I promised him, Moony.  I promised I'd take care of Harry.  I promised James…but I killed him…it's my fault…I'm sorry…"

"It's not your fault.  You did your best, we all did.  Harry knows you did whatever you could. He knows you care about him.  James knew that too." I shake my head and Remus pulls back and looks me in the eyes.  I look down, I can't bear to see the look in his eyes.  That familiar look of sorrow, pity and disappointment.  He puts a hand under my chin and forces my head up.  "Look at me, Sirius.  This. Is. Not. Your. Fault." I sigh and nod my head.  I don't have the energy to argue with him.  Remus wipes his eyes and rests a hand on my shoulder before withdrawing it and getting shakily to his feet.  He holds out his hand and helps me up.  

"I have to go," he says, his eyes searching mine.  "Are you going to be alright?" I shake my head and Remus almost smiles, but it's a smile without any joy.  "Stupid question." He murmurs.  "Are you staying?" I nod.  I can't leave Harry now.

"I'll change and stay here until…" I can't bring myself to say it.  Instead I try to smile bravely. "In case he wakes up." I force the smile to stay there but it falters and my resolve begins to crumble.  I feel a lump rise in my throat and fresh tears burn my eyes.  I look from Remus to Harry, lying beaten and motionless under the stark white sheets.  But this time, I stay strong.  I do not break down again.  I will not cry anymore tonight.  Remus says his goodbyes to Harry and sheds his own tears and it's my turn to comfort him.  Then he leaves without looking back and I am alone.  I can feel the grief welling up inside me, threatening to break loose.  So I change.  A dog can't cry.  I lie down on the floor at the foot of Harry's bed and rest my head on my paws.  I've barely gotten comfortable when I hear somebody enter.  My head snaps up and I growl, the fur on my neck standing on end.  But it's only Hermione.  She wants to say her goodbyes.  It dawns on me then, that I'm not the only one that's going to miss him when he…leaves.  He's leaving behind so much more than one fugitive godfather.  He's leaving behind his friends, his home, and the girl who loves him.  I nod to Hermione and walk out into the dim halls.  Most of the students are asleep, or in their common rooms, so I don't have much trouble making it outside, where I find a patch of soft grass under some bushes at the edge of the forest.  And there I let wonderful darkness and sleep overwhelm me and I can dream of a life I had hoped for, a life with a son, Harry, a life I will never know.

*  *  *  *  *

"No.  Please God, no…" 

Hermione's voice was barely a whisper, hoarse from crying long into the night, but to canine ears it was clear as if she had shouted.  My heart sank.  I walk in and look up into Hermione's eyes.  Her face is blotched and her eyes are puffy from crying.  Tear tracks lace her pale cheeks and the front of her robes is damp.  She looks at me and in that look I learn everything I need to know.  Slowly, I walk over to the bedside.  I'm almost afraid to look.  I rear up, placing my front paws on the bed.  Harry looks exactly like he did when I left him last night.  Except the steady rise and fall of his chest has ceased.  He looks almost like he's sleeping peacefully.  I feel Hermione's fingers gently combing my fur.  The human contact is a small comfort as I stand staring at the body of my godson.  I look a little closer.  It may just be my imagination, or my grieving mind causing me to hallucinate, but I swear the corners of his mouth are turned ever so slightly upwards. As if he'd smiled just before the end.  I guess I should be glad.  It must mean he was at peace in his last few moments.  Hermione is crying, I can feel her hand trembling as she absently runs her fingers through my coat.  She's leaning on me now, and I think that if I so much as shifted my weight she'd collapse.  I can feel the sobs racking her body beside me.  I want to tell her it's going to be okay, that Harry is at peace now.  Maybe telling her that will make me believe it too.  But I can't risk changing back, so instead I just stand there, holding her up and grieving silently.  After a while her sobs subside and she can stand by herself.  She leans over and kisses Harry's forehead.  Her hand, still trembling, brushes his in silent farewell and she turns away.  Silent tears flow from her eyes but she does not cry out again.  Slowly, stumbling every now and then, she walks out into the bustling corridor and disappears in the sea of black robes and pointed hats.

*  *  *  *  *

"I thought I'd find you here."

Hermione whirls around, startled by my voice.  She's standing at the edge of the lake.  The stars are reflected on the glassy surface like a thousand diamonds.  She looks a mess, though I know I look no better.  It seems we've both been shedding tears today.  I walk forward and stand beside her, my eyes trained on the stars.  She sniffles a bit and turns her gaze upwards as well.  She seems so quiet and lost now, not the out-spoken, confident and all-round cheerful girl she was before this happened.  Once again, I want to be useful, to be there for the person who meant the world to Harry.  But as I said, I'm hopeless with that sort of thing.  But I'll try anyway.

"Lily, Harry's mother loved looking at the stars." I don't know who I'm really talking to.  Whether I'm saying this to comfort Hermione or to remind myself that I was happy once, I don't know.  "She told me once that the starlight we see is millions of years old.  Most of the stars we're looking at now are long dead.  But their light keeps shining forever."  I feel my eyes begin to burn again and I clench my fists.  I will stay strong. I will not crumble.  "It never dies. Maybe it's the only thing that never does.  She believed that that was where souls reside."  I stop.  I can't trust my voice any more.  I think if I say one more word I'm going to break down.  Instead I lose myself in the comfort of the night, and in painfully beautiful memories. 

"I hope she's right."  Hermione's voice cuts through my reverie.  She sounds so lost, so hopeless.  

After a while, as the sky to East turns grey, I leave her there.  She's standing with her arms wrapped around herself, crying silent tears as she gazes at the heavens.  I transform and slink to the whomping willow and slip inside.  It's Harry's funeral tomorrow, but I can't attend, I'm still on the run.

*  *  *  *  *

Heavy grey clouds hang over the cemetery, letting loose the occasional faint rumble of thunder as a warning of the storm to come.  I'm standing on a hill, beneath the shadow of an elaborate headstone in the shape of an angel, its great grey wings fanned out behind it.  Not that I need to hide.  I'm wearing the invisibility cloak, the only way I could get this close.  The wind picks up, ruffling the cloak and whispering in the long grass around me.  I can't hear what's being said at the ceremony below.  I can see familiar faces among the crowd of mourners.  Remus is standing in line with several aurors, his wand drawn.  As Harry's coffin is lowered into the ground, a red-haired boy darts forward.  Several other students try to grab him and pull him back but he shakes them off.  He stumbles and falls to his knees.  He lets out a heart-rending cry and I hear it carried on the wind.  My heart aches for Ron, Hermione, and all the other friends Harry leaves behind in this world.  Ron staggers to his feet and breaks free of the helping hands trying to guide him back to the crowd.  He runs past them, past my hiding place and weaves through the lines of graves, disappearing in the maze of stone.  Remus and the other aurors raise their wands and fire a dazzling array of gold and scarlet sparks into the grey sky, a salute to their fallen hero.  I want to cry, to howl, to let out all my grief and anger and pain, but to do so would mean certain death or recapture.  So I wait.  Slowly the mourners scatter until only one black-cloaked figure remains.  I make my way closer, creeping from shadow to shadow, just to make sure I stay hidden.  Thunder booms overhead and rain begins to fall.  Hermione kneels for a moment before the simple headstone that marks Harry's grave, ignoring the rain.  Then she stands and walks away without a backward glance.  

At last I walk forward to kneel at Harry's grave.  The rain is pouring down now, soaking through the thin cloak and right through my tattered clothes, soaking me to the bone and making me shiver.  The afternoon is dark and the rain comes so fast now that I can hardly see past the granite stone before me.  I pull off the cloak and kneel in the mud.  I reach into my pocket and pull out a slip of paper.  It's a photograph, one that I found in Moony's attic a year ago.  The faces of Lily, Remus and James beam up at me.  At the center of the picture stands a young man, no older than twenty-one, with black hair and a wide grin, and in his arms is cradled a laughing baby boy with emerald eyes and coal-black hair.  That man is me.  This picture was taken the week before Halloween, when we'd all taken Harry to the park near James's house for his first broomstick flight.  The picture is spelled against water and cannot be torn or taken from the place I choose for it.  

Harry's Firebolt already stands propped against his gravestone, left there by none other than Oliver Wood, never to be ridden again.  I place the picture beside it and sit back on my heels, almost like an artist admiring his work.  I don't hear the footsteps on the grass behind me, the rain is coming down too hard for me to hear anything.  I feel a gentle hand on my shoulder and flinch away, startled at the sudden touch.  Turning around, I squint through the rain into Moony's familiar face.  He looks down at me with rain, or are they tears, coursing down his face.  His presence is reassuring. It makes me feel safe; now I can cry.

*  *  *  *  *

The early morning air is cool and still.  The sun is just peering over the treetops and not a soul appears to be up.  The storm has passed, leaving everything green and new.  It's beautiful and peaceful out here. I feel almost free.  I bite back a whimper when I remember that Harry won't ever see another morning, even one so beautiful as this.  Hagrid's hut is dark and quiet.  I sigh.  Poor Hagrid had been up all night crying, and he needed some sleep.  I trot down to the lake for a drink and something catches my eye.  

Hermione is lying on the grass with her back against a tree, her head fallen forward onto her chest.  Poor thing must've spent the whole night out here in the rain.  Then I see the empty phial on the grass near her outstretched hand.  I break into a run, my paws slipping on the wet grass.  Oh God please don't let this be what I think it is!  I skid to a halt, barely regaining my balance before I collide with her.  She looks like she's sleeping soundly, a small, satisfied smile on her pale face.  I melt back into my human form and touch her hand.  Her skin is ice cold.  I feel her wrist, praying and hoping with all my heart.  But there is no pulse.  Hermione is dead. 

*  *  *  *  *

They buried her the next day.  Her grave lies beside Harry's and they're together forever, even in death.  I guess that's the way both of them would have liked it.  Ron is getting better, as are Ginny and the twins and everyone else.  I think they'll make it through this.  And me?  I couldn't attend Hermione's funeral either.  But two days later something wonderful happened, or it would have been wonderful if Harry were still here with me.  Dumbledore convinced Fudge to question me under the influence of Veritaserum.  I'm now officially a free man.  But it came one week too late.  

But now I'm free to make sure that Harry's death does not go unnoticed by those that caused it.  I will make Vernon Dursley pay for murdering my godson if it takes every ounce of strength I possess.  I will make him pay…

  A/N: Sorry but I just can NOT write sad! I will write another chapter when I can think of a way to make the Dursleys pay.  Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated.  Please review, even if its to say that it sucks.  Any flames will be used by Fred my imaginary monkey (don't ask) to blow up my science classroom because I have a test soon and I don't know anything so by all means flame away if you have to!  Keep on rollin'!

~ K@


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